


Kill Our Way To Heaven

by Caelys



Series: Folk Horror AU [3]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, Gen, Haunting, Hurt No Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, folk horror au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:53:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caelys/pseuds/Caelys
Summary: Don't trust the voices in the night
Series: Folk Horror AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937206
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Kill Our Way To Heaven

Another sleepless night. This was now becoming a habit for Arthur Shelby. It didn’t matter how early he came back home or how late he went to bed, sleep never seemed to grace him for more than three hours per night. Night after night he was waking up at various hours. Just staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. The faint lights coming from outside were playing tricks on him again, painting all sorts of gruesome pictures before his eyes.

A mute theater, in which the insomnia was playing the main character.

In that moment the house was silent. No creaks and cracks coming from the wooden floor. Not a sound was coming from the mouse infested basement. Just Linda’s light breathing coming from the other side of the bed.

This wasn’t normal. No. The house was never quiet. Not since the news of Arthur Sr.’s death arrived in Small Heath. Ever since that dreadful day the house felt alive. The sounds although unusual became a part of it’s charm.

That night was different. Arthur felt different. Instead of trying to fall asleep, like he usually did, he got up. And with a few light steps, he went by the window.

It was raining outside. Small, but fast raindrops were racing to reach the ground. The gray clouds looked so close to the ground that one could mistake them for the fog that never seemed to leave Birmingham. It was a particularly windy night. The trees were moving so harshly, that Arthur was sure that one of them was going to break in two.

Arthur’s warm breath, made the window fog up. Not that it made any significant difference, as the outside was equally as gray looking.

Three. Two. One. Something hit the front door.

Three. Two. One. The sound of something heavy against old wood was deafening.

Three. Two. One. It sounded like the door was about to burst open.

But it didn’t. It never did. Arthur was so fucking used to this, that he was able to tell when the next strike was gonna be.

Those three strikes marked the beginning of the nightly terror. Loud noises. Thumps. Screams coming from the comfort of his own home. All things Linda never heard.

The first time Arthur was awoken by those noises, he went downstairs to check. Who was doing all of this? Still half asleep with a gun in his hand he went to check for a burglar. But the downstairs was empty. Looking the same was as they had left it a few hours ago. Completely untouched.

After that Arthur decided to return to bed, but one thought lingered in his brain. Who in his right mind would come to fuck with the house of Arthur Shelby. But as he went up just one stair, another thing crashed. The window to his right was in pieces, covering the whole floor. Thousands of small glass pieces mirroring Arthur’s terrified face as he realized that no one stood there. In front of the window. It was just him and the wind. And as Arthur decided to leave that for the morning and return upstairs, he could have sworn that he heard his name. 

The next morning, when he asked Linda is she had heard anything the previous night, she denied. She had slept through it all.

And Arthur didn’t believe a single word that came out of her mouth. In fact he told for about everything. The banging. The broken window. He didn’t spare a detail and the whole time Linda’s face showed anything but disbelief. And when they went downstairs to check, nothing was out of the ordinary.

And just as that Arthur stood there, in the spot where the the broken window fell. And he looked like a madman. As it was obvious that he had imagined everything that happened last night. A man completely out of his mind.

And the entire day he was trying to prove to himself that it was all a dream. A sick part of his imagination that decided to torture him. And eventually Arthur believed his wife that nothing had happened.

But deep down he knew that Linda was wrong. The memory of his father calling out for him seconds after the window was broken was too fresh to be forgotten. His father. A man long gone and buried 6 feet below the ground in an unmarked grave thousands of miles away. A man whose name was never spoken. A man despised by his own children.

The very man who kept haunting Arthur even from beyond the grave.

And as the terrors returned the next night, Arthur was determined to show Linda that he wasn’t insane. As soon as the loud thumps returned, and he was fully awake, he turned to the other side of the bed.

“Linda...” he whispered gently, even though his heart was going to burst. Nothing followed. She didn’t move.

“Linda!” Arthur repeated a bit louder, while shaking her unconscious body awake.

“LINDA!” Arthur screamed from the top of his lungs, but her eyes remained closed.

“Please, wake up. Help me” Arthur begged with tears in his eyes “LINDA!”

But she didn’t wake up. Linda was fallen so deep into peaceful sleep, that nothing seemed to get her out of her slumber. And there while was holding her body, he prayed that she hadn’t died. Whimpered, begged and prayed. Until he felt her pulse again. Despite how it looked like, Linda Shelby was very much alive.

But alive or not, Arthur was left alone in his own personal hell. Just sitting in the bad, tangled in those sheets, keeping Linda close to him. It didn’t matter what was going on around. The screams. The voice shouting his own name. Nothing mattered until Linda was safe.

“Forgive me, Father...”

The cupboard filled with plates was trashed open in seconds. Heavy footsteps going up and down the stairs.

Arthur was petrified. He couldn’t move. He just sat there, the golden cross clutched tightly in his hand. Praying to God.

Praying to survive the night.

“...For I have sinned...”

Praying the sun would come.

And eventually it did. When the first sun rays touched the bed sheets they found a man curled up and afraid to even blink in case something was waiting for him.

And that morning for the first time in years he actually went to a church. Up until then, he was afraid. He was afraid of being there, of confessing each and all of his sins. Arthur was terrified, so instead he prayed in the comfort of his own home. A place in which he was safe.

Was.

Now even the four walls he considered a home were violent. They became the place he dreaded returning to. And so Arthur tired to confess, he tried to confess for every single murder and every wrong doing. But he couldn’t.

Arthur Shelby just stood there in the dark, wooden prison. Alone with his thoughts and regrets. And while the priest was patient and understanding, the moment he opened his mouth, Arthur stood up and left.

He couldn’t.

And so for 17th night in a row Arthur was glued to the window, hoping something would happen. Or more likely for something not to happen. He was already used to the noises. The banging. The screams.

The screams of his father. Calling out for him every night.

But he desperately hoped that that would have been the end of things.

But it wasn’t. Slowly and gradually more things were happening each night. In the beginning the change was so little that Arthur didn’t see it. A slight movement in a glass. A laugh seemingly coming from nowhere. A dark shadow never seeming to leave the garden at night. Always standing underneath tress, so that the moonlight wouldn’t reach it. Always in the shadows, always creeping. Each night getting bolder. More arrogant.

Arthur closed his eyes. The rain still hadn’t stopped. The rumbling downstairs was the same. Just the night was different.

Just this time the inhumane screams coming from down below were louder. More erratic. This time they sounded almost painful. And in the amidst of that his father’s cries were now full of grief. Full of regrets. This time they were asking for help.

Just like every time when he was alive and wanted something for his own good. The exact same voice and words. All thing that Arthur knew all too well.

Just like in the days before he left them and just like in the day when he returned.

Same fucking intonation and words. And as much as Arthur didn’t want to care, he did. As much as that old man fucked him up, Arthur still cared.

“I am here, Father.”

As Arthur Shelby finally opened his eyes, he heard a creaking just in front of him. And there on the second story window a set of glowing red eyes were staring right at him.

He did not move.

“I am here.”

The window shattered. Linda’s hysterical screams filled the void.

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill and you’re here for the explanation. What you just read about is heavily influenced by another slavic creature. It’s called Yavina. Basically it’s an evil spirit that is kinda similar to a vampire. The Yavina appears form the blood of man who’s been murdered 40 days after his death. And it wanders through the night for as long as the person was supposed to live. The spirit shouts and does all sorts of things but also it calls the names of it’s murderers or people in his family. Those who hear their name and answer it are destined to die soon.
> 
> Again thank you so much for reading and I’ll see you in the next part.


End file.
